Fight to the Finish
by RavenSeekerCho
Summary: My version of the last few chapters of Book 7, based on clues I've found in the 4. Voldemort challenges Harry to a fight to the death. Harry agrees. What will happen? Not what you expect. CHAPTER THREE IS UP! PLEASE r/r. Major spoilers of all 4 books!
1. The Invitation

Chapter One  
  
Harry stared over at the letter he had received a few minutes ago, from a large black falcon who had immediately flown off after making his delivery. His green eyes, no longer hidden behind black glasses thanks to a charm Madame Pomfrey had developed, glanced over at a very large and very old-fashioned clock. It was 11:30 PM.   
  
Ron, Neville, and the other 7th year Gryffindor boys were sleeping soundly in their beds, exhausted from the grueling N.E.W.T.S. Harry sighed quietly. He envied them all for being able to sleep. He looked down at the letter, pondering the message - invitation - it held.   
  
His thoughts blurred the words together, but he knew what they said. The letter offered him a chance to fight fairly to the death with Voldemort, no tricks. If he agreed, all he had to do was hold the letter, and at midnight it would turn into a Portkey and bring him face to face with his enemy. Ordinarily, Harry wouldn't even consider it. However, Snape, Hogwarts' spy on Voldemort and his activities, had told him and Dumbledore about it a few weeks earlier. He hadn't known the exact date it was planned for, but Voldemort was being truthful about wanting a fair fight. Harry closed his eyes, remembering the scene.  
  
"Harry, the only reason the Dark Lord would even consider this is because he _knows_ he will win. I won't lie to you - he has gotten much stronger, even stronger than last year." At this, Snape had bit his lip, no doubt thinking of the various tortures he'd been forced to witness over the past three years. After a few moments, he snapped out of his trance, and looked to Dumbledore. "Headmaster, I think the Dark Lord's been keeping me around just for this."  
  
Harry had frowned at this. "Well, he thinks you're his spy at Hogwarts, doesn't he? He'd probably expect you to persuade me to go."  
  
Snape shook his head. "I'm not so sure. I fear he suspects me....I think he has since I went back."  
  
Harry had looked at him in confusion, but the subject had been dropped. In the days since, Sirius and Lupin had warned him not to go several times. They said that he wouldn't be able to survive this time, that he mustn't try to be a hero. Dumbledore hadn't forbid him. When Snape had left that day, Dumbledore had looked older than Harry had ever seen him. Dumbledore was the only person who didn't give Harry a lecture about knowing his own strengths and not playing hero.  
  
"Harry," he'd said quietly. "I'm afraid you're going to have to make this decision on your own. When the time comes, you won't have to listen to anyone's advice. In fact, knowing Voldemort, you probably won't even get the chance. Just listen to your heart - it'll tell you what to do."  
  
And here Harry was, needing to make a life and death decision. Dumbledore had been right, of course. The letter's 11:30 PM delivery hadn't given him the time to get a second opinion. It only gave him a half hour to figure out what to do, by himself.   
  
He turned the letter over and over in his hands. He hadn't known that Portkeys could be used inside Hogwarts. He should have realized, though - hadn't the TriWizard Cup been a Portkey, and on Hogwart's Quidditch Pitch?  
  
He closed his eyes. He didn't like to think of the TriWizard Tournament, because it made him think of Cedric, and his death which had been Harry's fault.  
  
That was only the first death Harry had caused since Voldemort's return. He thought of old Mrs. Figg, his former baby-sitter. It had turned out that she was a witch, part of Dumbledore's elaborate plan for Harry's protection while away from Hogwarts. She'd been killed by Death Eaters last year, when the creature who called himself the Dark Lord had become aware of the part she played in Harry's protection. Lupin had also died, and it had hit Harry hard. He'd died protecting Harry. There'd been several others, as well. Cedric had been the first, and since him Harry had become a completely different person. Though he'd known fear for his first three and a half years at Hogwarts, it was all much worse now. Before, he mostly feared for himself. Now, he feared for others.  
  
He looked at Ron, his best friend, sleeping soundly with a smile on his face. He was probably dreaming of Hermione, Harry thought, smiling a bit. Ever since Hermione had cleverly tricked Ron into admitting his feelings for her at the beginning of the year, the two had been inseparable. They still squabbled constantly, but it was all in good fun, and they could make up in much more enjoyable ways now. At first they'd been worried that Harry would feel weird hanging out with them. However, Harry hadn't minded in the slightest. For one thing, his relationship with Ron had gotten even better. Ron was a very competitive person, especially with Harry. Harry suspected that, deep down, the fact that Ron had a girlfriend and Harry didn't made Ron feel better about himself, and made him less prone to jealousy. The second reason he didn't mind was because it made him feel better to see them so happy together. It was sort of a reminder of what they were all fighting for.  
  
Harry himself hadn't ever really been with anyone, even though he was 17 now. He'd had a very few brief flings, but nothing serious. He wouldn't let himself get into anything, because he didn't want anyone else to get hurt. Besides, there weren't really and girls he was crazy about; Cho'd graduated. She'd already tried something last year, but after that one kiss, Harry refused to let it go any further. The guilt of Cedric had still been fresh in his mind, even after nearly two years.  
  
He was glad his two best friends were so happy, but he still didn't hang around them that much; they were easy targets. If anything ever happened to Hermione, he'd never forgive himself, and neither would Ron. If anything happened to Ron...the Weasleys were his favorite family in the world, he couldn't live if he made them suffer. Which was why he was staying away from Ginny. Now 16, she'd become absolutely gorgeous. He had to avoid being alone with her, not knowing what the newly confident Ginny Weasley would do. Voldemort and his followers would just love for Harry to get involved with a Weasley.  
  
Harry looked at Ron. He was at a good point in his life, except for the fact that he lived in fear - the fear that came of being Harry Potter's best friend.  
  
It was then that Harry knew he must go. He had to face Voldemort. Everyone he knew and loved was at risk because of that fact; he knew and loved them. He owed it to them, to Cedric, to Mrs. Figg, to Lupin. After all, what if he succeeded? What if he managed to kill Voldemort? They'd all go back to leading normal lives. Harry would have a chance to have a normal life again, too. He could avenge the deaths he had caused and make peace with himself.  
  
But what if he failed? The thought scared him. He didn't want to die, especially not if it involved being murdered by the same evil that had killed his parents. However...he felt he had to try. Otherwise, he'd just be living in fear for the rest of his life. He had to try. His heart had told him so, and Dumbledore had told him to listen.   
  
Harry looked at the clock. 11:58. He held the letter, grabbing his bag with the photo album of his parents Hagrid had given him first year and his invisibility cloak. If he died, he wanted to die with the last bits of his parents he had left.   
  
Just as he was slinging the bag over his shoulder and placing his wand into his hand, he heard a voice.  
  
"Harry?" It was Ron. "What are you still doing up?"  
  
Harry looked at his friend, whose eyes were tired and hair tousled from sleep. He felt sad, thinking he might never see him again. "Hey, Ron?" 11:59. He didn't have time to wait for a response; he spoke quickly. "If I'm not here tomorrow, tell everyone I did what I had to. I did it for them. Tell Ginny I don't hate her, and that if I wasn't Harry Potter I'd have told her how beautiful I think she is. Tell Hermione thanks for everything, and I love her and Sirius and Hagrid and Dumbledore and even Snape." His voice was calm, but inside he felt like he was going to crack. Only about 30 seconds to go. Just hold on to the letter...  
  
"And I love you too, Ron, you're my best friend, and I love your whole family. If I'm not here tomorrow, my entire Gringotts vault belongs to the Weasleys, all of you. Don't refuse, there's no one else to take it."  
  
Ron's eyes widened, and Harry knew he'd guessed. He and Hermione had both known what Voldemort was planning, and both warned and begged him not to go. Five seconds. Harry felt a desperate urge to hug his friend good-bye, but then he'd miss it or drag Ron with him.  
  
"Harry, no!" Ron yelled, waking the other boys up as he climbed out of bed and desperately tried to grab Harry. It was too late. Harry felt himself being pulled into the letter as he yelled what could be his final, "Good-bye!"


	2. The Fight to the Finish

Chapter Two  
  
Harry landed in a large field, thankfully staying on his feet. He had no idea where he was, and it was very foggy out. He held out his wand, worried for a moment that he'd been tricked, that he was going to die without even inflicting any damage on Voldemort.  
  
"Ah, Harry Potter...I see you got my invitation." Strangely enough, the cold, high-pitched voice, while sending shivers down his spine, made him feel better, feel relieved.  
  
"Wand out already, Potter? Eager to begin, or you don't trust me?" There was a high laugh, and the shadowy figure of Lord Voldemort was visible as he came nearer, no longer hidden by the fog. His red eyes were practically slits in his pale, almost pasty face. Harry knew what would come next, and indeed they did. Voldemort's Death Eaters came behind him, dressed in black robes with large hoods, hiding their faces. Which one of them was Snape?, Harry wondered. He looked at them apprehensively, wondering if coming had been a mistake, if he'd fallen right into a clever trap. He didn't show this fear; instead he looked straight back at Voldemort, hiding his repulsion.   
  
He noticed that Voldemort still had his new wand. Two years ago when they'd met, he had told Harry that he'd picked up a new wand so that they wouldn't be caught in such an annoying situation like what had happened after the Tournament again. Harry knew this to be a good thing - Mr. Ollivander had told him years ago that you never get as good results with another person's wand. This had been proven true the last few times they'd battled.  
  
Harry looked to the Death Eaters, wondering if Voldemort had chosen a new right-hand man yet. Peter Pettigrew, also known as Wormtail, was yet another death Harry had caused; however, Wormtail had died partly because he felt indebted to Harry. Harry had been in a fair spot of trouble two years ago when Wormtail had stepped in, dying and, in a way, saving Harry's life...but that was a different story.  
  
Voldemort laughed again. "I see you don't trust me." The Death Eaters were now forming a rather large circle, with Voldemort and Harry in the center. Voldemort had gained many followers since he'd regained his strength and body. "Not to worry, Potter. I'll play fair. My Death Eaters are only here to watch, to see firsthand the defeat of Harry Potter."  
  
He was trying to intimidate him, but Harry stood his ground. He clenched his wand as he spoke. "You say that every time we meet, Voldemort - you never win."  
  
Voldemort wasn't taken aback by this at all. In fact, he started cackling again. When he'd finished, he sneered, amused, at Harry. "That's true...This time, however, it's a fight to the finish. One of us _must_ win, boy, and it's certainly not going to be you."  
  
Harry felt a chill of fear, but he kept it hidden. _I do have a chance_, he told himself. _I can win_. He glared back up at Voldemort. "Well, what if I win? Have you already told your Death Eaters to kill me the moment you die?"   
  
Harry would say what he wanted to Voldemort. He'd faced him too many times, and besides, in a few minutes he might be dead. He was not going to go down as a meek child.  
  
Voldemort didn't laugh this time, but his terrible face still held a very amused expression. "Of course I didn't tell them something so perposterous, boy. It's practically a nonexistant possibility. However, as you like..."  
  
He spoke to his Death Eaters, turning in a slow circle to face every one of them.  
  
"If Potter defeats me," he said in a tone which obviously meant he thought the very idea impossible, "You are to let him leave in peace."  
  
Voldemort beganto laugh, and his Death Eaters joined in. Still smiling, he turned to face Harry. Holding up a hand, he made his followers go silent. "There, boy. I do hope you're satisfied." Now the smile left his lips, replaced with an expression of pure evil, pure malice. "Are you ready to begin?"  
  
Harry took a deep breath. "Yes. I am ready."  
  
Voldemort waved his wand, and a large stone appeared behind Harry. "To be fair, I've given you something to hide behind," he sneered. "Prepare to perish, fool that you are...thinking you could possibly defeat me..."  
  
Harry ignored him, and the insult the rock represented, and walked to the very center of the circle.   
  
The two wizards, one good and one the epitomy of evil, bowed to each other, and began to duel.   
  
"_Imperio_!" Voldemort yelled, pointing his wand at Harry.  
  
Harry didn't even bother to dodge the curse. As it hit him and Harry easily threw of the effects, he wondered why Voldemort still insisted on using the Imperious Curse every battle, when it had no effect on him any time.  
  
"_Incendio_!" Harry yelled, and out of his wand shot a burst of blue flame which immediately set fire to Voldemort's robes. He wouldn't sink to that level. He wouldn't use the Unforgivable Curses. Of course, he doubted the Ministry would put him in Azkaban for using them on Voldemort - he didn't want to use them out of his own pride.   
  
Voldemort calmly put the fire out with his wand, and a thought flashed through Harry's mind: Without _Avada Kedavra_, how was he supposed to kill Voldemort? Did he even have enough power to use the deadly curse? Harry felt chills of fear as he prepared for the next curse to be thrown his way.  
  
"_Expelliarmus_!" shrieked Voldemort.  
  
Harry jumped to the ground, dodging the curse. He rolled quickly, pointing his wand and yelling "_Stupefy_!" as he stood up.  
  
Voldemort dodged the stunning spell easily as he shouted, "_Wingardium Leviosa_!"   
  
Harry felt himself being lifted high into the air. In fact, he was so high and directly above Voldemort, he couldn't even throw any curses his way.  
  
"Harry, Harry," jeered the voice. "What are we using such elementary spells for? you're seventeen, Potter. Surely you know more powerful spells than these?"  
  
Harry said nothing, but braced himself for the killing curse which he would surely be hit with any moment. However, to his surprise, he felt himself being lowered to the ground.  
  
"I'll give you a final chance, Potter. Show me what you can do."  
  
As soon as he touched the ground, Harry whipped out his wand. "_Incendius Mobiliarus_!"  
  
Voldemort began to shriek, his body now wracked with the sensation of being burned alive. Harry kept his jaw set. He'd done some research on excruciatingly painful curses after last year's deadly encounter - this was one that used to be an unforgivable, but was lowered after it was pointed out that the spell merely tricked the victim into believing they were feeling pain, and did no physical damage. He watched Voldemort shrieking and contorting for awhile, feeling no pity, this evil creature who had caused so much pain for others. He waited for the curse to wear off, however: he wouldn't hit even Voldemort while he was down.  
  
The curse was suddenly over, and Voldemort was panting. "Good, Potter..._Breatheo Inhibito_!"   
  
Harry had never heard of this curse, and he didn't have time to block it. Suddenly, he felt a sensation as though a strong pair of hands was squeezing his neck. Instinctively, his hands went to his neck in an attempt to fend of the attacker. However, no hands were there, and Harry felt himself being strangled. He attempted to breathe, but no air could get into his lungs. Harry started to get extremely dizzy, and he struggled in panic, until the invisible hands finally released him of their grip. He collapsed on the ground, breathing deeply and wincing as his lungs expanded.Finally, the world came back into focus. Without pausing to think, he pointed his wand, screaming out, "_Slicio Estomaca_!"  
  
Voldemort, who was already looking a bit short of breath, now felt the terrible sensation of being disembowled. Harry regained his strength as he watched Voldemort clutching his stomach and shrieking in pain. He held his wand at the ready, preparing to hit Voldemort with another powerful curse before he could be attacked.  
  
However, before Harry even realized the curse was over, Voldemort had yelled, "_Incendius Mobiliarus_!"   
  
Harry suddenly felt as though he was tied to a wooden stake, the flames all around him. He yelled out in excruciating pain, pain he'd never felt the likes of. Voldemort had used his own spell against him, and now Harry could appreciate just how painful it was. He screamed loudly as the fire burned his flesh.  
  
_It's not real_, he told himself. _There's not really any fire..._ With one last scream of agony, he focused on that fact, and released himself from the spell. He glared at Voldemort, and noticed that his face was contorted in pain as well. Harry didn't have time to wonder why. He just knew that he couldn't take many morepainful curses. He wanted to end it all.  
  
"_Avada Kedavra_!" he screamed, pointing his wand at Voldemort. A jet of green light struck Voldemort, who immediately...laughed?  
  
Yes. Voldemort was cackling, his piercing laugh almost a high shriek. "Stupid boy. _Avada Kedavra _cannot harm_ me_."   
  
Harry's mouth was open in shock and defeat, his hand going instinctively to the strap of his bag. He wondered how this could be, how Voldemort had grown so strong he could block the unblockable curse, when he heard Voldemort's voice shriek, "_Crucio_!"  
  
Harry yelleed with pain. As many times as he'd been hit by this curse over the past three years, he'd never learned to block it, nor been able to escape the pain. He yelled down on the ground, his body convulsing. He forced himself to open his eyes, to give Voldemort a defiant glare even through the pain.  
  
He opened them, and was shocked. For although the pain blureed his vision and limited his hearing, one thing was clear: Voldemort himself was shrieking, as though the pain and weakness Harry felt through his body was in his as well.  
  
Harry had a flashback, to his fourth year of Hogwarts, jsut after the Triwizard Tournament and Voldemort's second rise to power. He felt as though he was there, once again, speaking to Voldemort. He heard his own voice. "He said my blood would make him stronger than if he'd used someone else's...He said that the protection my - my mother left in me - he'd have it, too. And he was right - he could touch me withought hurting himself, he touched my face." And, looking through his own years-younger eyes, he saw once again the look that had flashed across Dumbledore's face for only a moment, but had been a gleam of triumph.  
  
The flashback over, Harry returned to the him in the present, the him that was full of pain. He knew now what he had to do, the only way he could kill the scourge who called himself the Dark Lord. But how?  
  
Voldemort stopped the Cruciatus Curse, and Harry instantly yelled, "_Petrificous Totalus_!"  
  
Voldemort, who hadn't expected the boy to recover so quickly, had no time to dodge the hex. He was put into a full body bind.  
  
Harry had bought himself time to think. On instinct, he took his bag off his shoulder, and reached in. He was surprised to feel his fingers touch metal. Closing his hand around cool steel, Harry lifted his hand just enough to see a sword, the same sword with "Godric Gryffindor" engraved on it which had helped to save his life in second year. Harry went into another flashback, when he'd been about to leave Dumbledore, who had just told him to follow his heart...  
  
"Oh, Harry..." Dumbledore had said, just as Harry's hand had been on the doorknob and he was about to leave. He'd turned to see the Headmaster holding Harry's bag.  
  
"Harry, you almost forgot this."  
  
"Oh, thanks, Professor," Harry had said, extending his hand so Dumbledore could give him his bag. But Dumbledore hadn't given it to him. He'd just looked down at it for a few moments, his face old and sad. After a while he'd snapped out of it, and gave Harry a smile. "Here you are, Harry." He'd put the bag into Harry's outstretched hand, with one last statement. "And Harry....your father would be proud of you."  
  
Harry had thanked him, not understanding why Dumbledore was being so emotional. He hadn't opened his bag or seen Dumbledore since. He hadn't known that Dumbledore had put the sword into his bag, that somehow Dumbledore had known exactly what would happen...  
  
Harry snapped out of his trance. Though he could see the sword, it was still hidden to everyone else. He drew it out slowly, and slung his bag back over his shoulder.  
  
Harry then stood up, holding the sword, and advanced toward the still motionless Voldemort. He kept going until he stood right above his frozen nemesis. Voldemort may have been unable to move, but his eyes were smirking at Harry, at the sword in his hand. He seemed to be thinking, "Foolish boy, a sword can't kill me." But Harry knew it could. He held out his wand. "_Expelliarmus_!" Voldemort watched his wand fly into Harry's hand, which held his as well. Harry placed the wand into his bag.  
  
He had to. He had to kill Voldemort, and it was the only way. Harry put the jelly legs curse on Voldemort before taking off the body-bind. That way, he wouldn't be able to stand up, but he could still lift his head to see what was happening.  
  
Harry slowly moved backwards several steps, looking around at the Death Eaters as a single tear made a trail down his face. He put his wand into his bag, and heard confused mutters. He didn't care about them. He closed his eyes, thinking of all the people he loeved, even the Dursleys whom he thought he hated. He knew what he had to do. His eyes opened, and both hands gripped the handle of the sword.  
  
Suddenly, withought warning, he lifted the sword high into the air.   
  
"No!!" a desperate male voice shouted. Snape? Or some other Death Eater who'd already realized?   
  
Harry didn't pause to find out. H quickly put his arms down and thrust the sword into his own chest.  
  
"Ah!" A gasp of pain left his mouth as thr sword entered him, mangling his insides.  
  
Harry fell to his knees, his hands still gripping the sword which was still inside of him. The pain....the cutting pain was even worse than the Cruciatus Curse...  
  
"Nooo!!"  
  
Harry heard Voldemort's high, shrieked protest. "No...." Voldemort moaned, writhing on the ground. Harry felt relief wash through him. It all made sense. He'd done the right thing...He was dying, and so was Voldemort...  
  
Harry's thoughts began to become mixed and uncomprehensible. He vaguely realized that he'd been on his knees listening to Voldemort's shrieks for some time now...It really wasn't comfortable...  
  
Harry collapsed onto his side, amazed at the way he just fell like that. The sword was still clutched in his chest, but the pain was gone now...He was floating...  
  
Harry saw one of the hooded figures run to him, place a hand on his shoulder, and clasp it tightly. Snape? A wet splotch fell on his forehead. Was it raining...? No...the hooded figure was crying. It couldn't be Snape, Snape didn't cry, especially not over Harry...  
  
Suddenly, Harry felt a great warmth flood his body. Confused and dazed, he looked up to the sky. Or, where the sky had been...Now, it was a bright warmth, and there were people there. He squinted against the light, trying to discern the figures. Cedric...Mrs. Figg... Lupin.... a woman and an old man who had once come out of Voldemort's wand....They were all smiling sadly at him. Then Harry saw his parents in the center, holding each other.   
  
"I'm so proud of you," whispered his mother. She was smiling, but she was crying, too.  
  
"You did the right thing, Harry," his father said. He was crying, too; all the bright people were. Why was everyone crying?  
  
Suddenly, Harry remebered what had happened, his thoughts becoming clear again. They were crying because he, Hary Potter, was dying. Harry smiled at his parents, trying to tell them that he wasn't afraid. Yes, he was dying, but he had to. Now the people he knew, and others he didn't, could stay alive, live normal lives, not be scared. He had done it because that was the only way to kill Voldemort. That was the whole reason he had been alive, to kill him. And if this was the way, then dying wasn't so bad.  
  
Harry heard Voldemort now moaning softly...then a high shriek, a final shriek. Harry closed his eyes, smiling sadly, and as he died, so did Voldemort.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading, and remember to click that little box right below and send a review! I love getting reviews, it encourages me! Now, this story isn't over yet, still some things I want to clarify. So watch for chapter 3, everyone's reactions to the ending, which should be up by Sunday at the latest. Depends how hard my finals are. So, yeah, I hope you liked it, and I'd be very happy if you told me so. If you didn't like it, go ahead and flame me so I can be better next time. Oh, and I don't own Harry, blah blah blah. I do own the plot, but it's based on clues I've found in the books. Don't hate me for killing Harry, and good-night. : )


	3. The Explanation

Quick author's note: I am absolutely terrible at poetry and the like, so please excuse my pitiful prophecies. Now enjoy!

Chapter Three - The Explanation

Snape's hooded figure stared down at the Potter boy for many moments as the true Death Eaters looked at each other in confusion at the events which had taken place. Snape stood up quietly, removing his hooded garment to be dressed only in his wizarding robes. He threw the cloth to a figure, who put down his hood and was revealed to be Lucius Malfoy.

"You've lost," Severus spit out. "You've wasted your pitiful lives to serve that-" he gestured wildly to the limp body of the fallen Dark Lord "-creature, who's now been defeated once and for all. You're all despicable," he hissed, his eyes flashing angrily. He knelt back on the ground, and glanced at Harry. His face was pale, and a bit of blood had gathered at the corner of his mouth. He was smiling sadly, however, and would now be smiling forever. Yet something seemed to be missing from this young man's face, making him appear empty. It suddenly struck the professor - Harry's famous scar had disappeared, leaving no clue it had ever existed. The corners of Snape's mouth turned slightly upwards, but only for a moment. He then whirled back on Voldemort's followers, sneering.

"You will all meet the same end as your master - I will make sure of it!"

And with that, he put one arm around the Boy Who Died's shoulders, clasped the other hand around the Portkey, and disappeared.

* * *

Ron looked up with a start as Professor Snape crashed onto Harry's desk out of nowhere, holding a dark shape under an arm.

"Snape? What are you doing here?" he asked, bewildered and rather short of temper.

Snape said nothing, but stared down at the parchment in his hand.

Ron grew red, and grabbed Harry's old Sneakoscope off a nightable. He suddenly hurled it at the Potions Master, missing by several feet so that it shattered against the wall. "Answer me, you bastard!" he screamed. "You're our bloody spy, so tell us what you saw! Where's Harry?!?"

A sob was heard from Hermione, who was sitting at the edge of Harry's bed. The only others in the room were Ginny, Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore, who stood up and held out a hand to silence Ron. Ron opened his mouth, but then moved back to sit next to Hermione, staring straight ahead.

"Severus - may I?" Dumbledore asked.

Snape, who had been leaning over something wrapped in black fabric, looked up. There was a nod from Dumbledore, and Snape straightened. Harry's body was revealed, his arms still clutching the sword into his chest, and his bag still hanging from a forearm.

"No!" gasped Professor McGonagall, and an identical sob was heard from Hermione.

Ron said nothing, but his wide eyes traveled across Harry's face. He then burst into tears.

"I tried to stop him," he sobbed. "I told him it wouldn't work, I said that You-Know-Who would kill him!"

"Voldemort did not kill Harry," Dumbledore said softly, his eyes lacking their usual smile. He looked older than any in the room had ever seen him.

"Severus, please inform us all of exactly what happened," Dumbledore asked.

Snape nodded grimly, and took a breath. "There was a duel," he said dully. "Voldemort and Potter fought. They both got very weak..it was terrible to watch," he said, his voice breaking very slightly, causing both surprise and sympathy among all present except Dumbledore, who did not look shocked in the slightest. His mouth was a tight line, and his eyes were focused on Harry's face.

"I think Potter realized that the weaker he got, the weaker Voldemort became as well. So he - he picked up the sword, and-"

"They both died," completed Dumbledore quietly. Snape nodded.

"Oh God!" wailed Ginny, breaking down entirely, her face in her hands. Even Professor McGonagall couldn't stop the tears from flowing down her face as she comforted the female Weasley.

Hermione looked puzzled. "But why? Why would Harry kill himself? And why-"

"It was...the only way," Dumbledore answered her. "Only through Harry's death could Voldemort be defeated."

"But I don't understand..." Hermione admitted, fighting back the hysterics whose onset was forewarned by the silent tears already trickling down her face. She couldn't allow herself to break down, she might miss something that could explain all this. She put an arm around Ron, hugging him close.

Dumbledore sighed. "Voldemort made a grave mistake when he used Harry's blood to create his body 3 years ago. In that act, Harry's life force was added to his, and became a necessary part of him. However, it was still part of Harry as well; when Harry died, Voldemort could not continue living."

Ron looked at Dumbledore. "How do you know all this?" he demanded. "How do you always know everything? Is this some sort of big plan of yours?"

Hermione squeezed Ron's hand, but Dumbledore wasn't angry.

"It's not your fault, Mr. Weasley," he said quietly.

This made the redhead lose all control, and he went into hysterics. "I tried to stop him! If I had stayed awake, and watched him..or if I had realized that his was saying good-bye and not sleep-talking, I could have torn the letter up, I could have gone with him - "

"Ron, there is nothing you could have done!" Ron's voice broke off into quiet sobs as Dumbledore spoke. "Each of us has a part to play, a destiny. This was Harry's. Otherwise, Voldemort may have killed thousands of other people! There's nothing you could have done to change Harry's fate."

Hermione was now the one who looked closely at Dumbledore. "Headmaster..you do know an awful lot about this. Are you a seer?"

"No," was the reply.

"Then how do you know all this?" she asked desperately. "We need to know."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, Miss Granger. You do have that right. I know all this because of Professor Trewlaney."

Ron looked up, completely confused. "Trewlaney? How does Trewlaney have anything to do with this?"

"The prophecy," spoke Snape.

"Prophecy? But that woman's a fraud!" Hermione exclaimed.

McGonagall spoke up for the first time. "In her conscious state, that is most certainly true," she agreed. "However, she is a seer - she just doesn't know it."

The students in the room were very confused, and Dumbledore stood up. "It's a long story, beginning almost 18 years ago.

"Professor Trewlaney had come into my office for an interview for the Divination opening. I had turned around for a moment to straighten my hat in the mirror before bidding Sybill adieu - her interview hadn't been the most promising. However, when I turned around, her entire appearance had changed."

He paused, closing his eyes briefly. "Her voice was much deeper than normally, and she began muttering phrases in the style of the most ancient seers recorded. It went like this -

"A namesake heir risen to power

Will soon meet his first defeat.

The form will be a griffen true

And heir of a rival faction.

One young, one old, both will meet

And a curse will fail.

The babe will survive

The serpent shall fall

And both shall prepare for the next meeting.

"Obviously I was intrigued, and gave Sybill the position at once. For I've always been able to discern a real prophecy from a hoax, and I needed to keep her around for any clarifications to her warning. She apparently didn't remember a thing she'd said, which is often the case with seers.

"I worked for days on the interpretation, with the help of my assistant, Severus Snape. Severus, my voice is a bit t ired - would you like to tell the next part?"

Snape nodded. "At that time I was already a Death Eater, servant of Voldemort. He had managed to get me into a position at Hogwarts, so I would serve as a link to Dumbledore if necessary." Snape's voice was quiet but slimy, and he looked as though he wished he could spit on himself. But he continued. "With Dumbledore, I realized that the prophecy meant that Voldemort - who, as he had told us, was SLytherin's last living descendant - would fall to Gryffindor's heir. However, GOdric Gryffindor had a great many descendants, of whom I knew none. The only thing I was convinced of was that the heir mentioned was a tiny child. So I relayed this information to my master," he said bitterly. "I was congratulated for my findings. However, I was not yet as vicious as many Death Eaters - I didn't want the young seer to be taken. I couldn't understand why. However, I lied to Voldemort and said that Dumbledore had recently found the prophecy in an old manuscript.

"There was also a spy on James Potter and his wife Lily, a couple who were part of Dumbledore's AUrors. Right after I finished telling Voldemort my information, that spy mentioned that the Potters had had a child almost a year ago, and perhaps it could be useful.

"Voldemort found it very useful indeed, for he realized that the Potter child must be the prophecy's 'babe.' He began plotting the child's murder immediately."

Snape hesitated, but knew that he must continue. "I don't like being in debt to people, especially not to people I detest. James and I had always hated each other, but when he stopped his friends from having me killed, regardless of the intentions...I was in debt to him.

"I did some careful thinking, and decided I might as well make some good come out of my life while getting rid of my debt to James, so I oculd hate him in peace.

"So I went to Dumbledore, and told him everything. I used some Veritaserum on myself so I wouldn't leave anything out. I told him I was willing to risk my life to spy for him and inform him of Voldemort's plots. He trusted me."

Dumbledore nodded at him. "I believe I can pick it up from this point, Severus," he said gently. "Using Professor Snape's information, I contacted James and lily and told them to meet me. While I waited for them, I did some research, and confirmed that James was, indeed, a descendant of Godric Gryffindor himself. That meant that his son would be a perfect fit with the prophecy.

"When Lily and James arrived, I told them everything, except for Professor Snape's involvement. I told Harry's parents-" he paused. It was the first time Harry's name had been mentioned since the story began. All eyes in the room glanced over to Harry's body, and the shock of reality came back to them. Dumbledore breathed deeply, and continued. "I told them that we would make arrangements for the Fidelius Charm to be performed immediately. So they spent several hours deciding on a Secret Keeper. and decided on Peter Pettigrew. I was very reluctant, and wanted to be their Keeper myself, since I knew through Snape that there was a spy. Severus had been trying to find out who it was since he came to our side, but Voldemort made his spies wear robes and change their voices in those times - he was much more confident this time around and failed to take those measures. However, no one suspected Peter Pettigrew, and so they chose him.

"Voldemort attacked the entire family to get to Harry. The subjects of prophecies are always like that - they think they can change their fate, when in fact the very actions they take to do that often lead to the prophecy's fulfillment. Voldemort killed James and Lily, and met his first downfall in Harry. The prophecy had been fulfilled."

Everyone was very silent for a moment. Still not wanting to face what had happened, Hermione spoke. "There's still some things I don't understand. Professor Snape -" He looked at her warily. "-Didn't you repay your debt to James by helping to save Harry?" Her voice choked, but she fought to keep it steady. "Yet you still tried to save his life at the Quidditchgame, and we head you were doing that to repay your debt.."

Snape looked blankly at her. "James and Lily both died, and I hadn't told Voldemort the prophecy, they would still be alive. I was in debt once again." He looked down at Harry's body. "ANd now I'll never be out of it," he said quietly.

Dumbledore looked at Snape. "Severus, what did I just explain about prophecies? They are inevitable. Any action in the present attempting to affect them will only lead to the original result prophesized! It was fate; you couldn't have done anything."

Snape shook his head, unable to accept it. He'd never repay his debt, never be able to hate James's memory in peace. He had hated Harry because he represented his failure, the humiliation of living in debt to someone your entire life. And now he'd failed to succeed in protecting Harry, the only way he could repay that debt.

Dumbledore spoke quietly. "If it's any assurance, severus; I think James would consider your debt to him repaid. You brought Harry's body back, and now the Potter family is finally together."

Snape looked startled for a moment, and abruptly turned toward the wall, out of sight of the others.

Ginny, who hadsaid very little suring the entire explanation, had a question of her own. "So...Harry was Gryffindor's heir?"

Dumbledore nodded, and was about to answer when Ron spoke up. "Dumbledore, the story's not over yet, is it? Because none of this explians what happened tonight."

Dumbledore nodded once more. "Yes, Ron - there is more to the story. And Ginny, by the end, your question will be answered as well."

And so he continued. 

"We'll now skip ahead to the end of Hermione and Ron's third year. Harry came to me, telling about Sybill's prophecy about Peter Pettigrew and the Dark Lord's rise to power. I mentioned to him that this was her second correct prophecy; however, he didn't ask any questions.

"That summer, I had a meeting with Sybill regarding the curriculum for the following year, and she made her final prophecy to date. This one was longer, but much more straightforward.

"The serpent shall meet the griffen

One with him by active choice.

He will arise, but undoubtedly die

When the griffen stops his flight.

They are welded in one

Though neither shall realize

Until weakness sets on.

One will not realize 'til the end.

A death for a death will be delivered

A noble death by Griffen's own claw

And the serpent shall fall eternally.

"It wasn't as well worded as the other prophecies, but by that I was thankfully able to figure it out quickly. It ws also thankful that school didn't start for another month. Even I, who long ago conceded to the prophecies would have been tempted to warn Harry. But I couldn't," he said sadly. "I could only provide him with the tools he needed. Who am I to tempt fate?" he asked, mostly to himself. "The burden on my shoulders since that day Harry received his invitation...for I knew from reading between the lines of the prophecy that that would occur...has been almost unbearable"

He sighed. "When I first heard the first prophecy, and again with the third...moreso with the third I thought perhaps I would be the one to go against Voldemort, instead of a child."

Professor McGonagall looked sharply at Dumbledore. "Albus, you never told us that. What do you mean?"

The old man smiled. "I'm sorry, Minerva, but I didn't want to let it get out until necessary. You see, Godric Gryffindor has many descendants. It's hard to tell who they are because he only had daughters, and each of those daughters had daughters, and so on. It's difficult to trace lineage in a line like that because the surname changes constantly. However, the last few generations have had some males. One of the daughters' lines had a descendant named James Potter, who had a son named Harry Potter." He smiled. "One of the other daughters only has one male descendant: his name is Albus Dumbledore."

Professor McGonagall gasped. "Albus! So you're Gryffindor's last heir...and distantly related to Harry."

Dumbledore nodded. "Obvously it would have been difficult for me to help Harry to his destiny if it had been made known that I was his distant relative. I would have been accused of favoritism."

There was silence for a few moments as everyone was deep in thought.

"So that's the entire story?" Ron asked. "It brings us back to tonight?"

All the adults nodded.

"Now we must deal with the present," Dumbledore said.

All 6 people looked down at Harry's corpse.

Author's Note: Sorry this chapter took so long to put up, but I hope you're satisfied. The nextchapter will be up eventually tying up all the loose ends and giving the reactions of all the other main characters. Give me input on how plausible you think this is, and REVIEW!! 


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